Mahmoud Darwish: a feature on the late, great Palestinian poet

In one of his last public appearances before he died, Mahmoud Darwish drew thousands of Palestinians to a performance in Ramallah's Cultural Palace in July 2008. Those who couldn't get in watched him on screens outside and reportedly millions more watched him live on Aljazeera TV.

Often described as Exile's Poet or Poet of Resistance, Darwish was a member of the PLO until 1993 when he resigned in protest against the Oslo accords, believing it was an unjust agreement and would not bring peace. Darwish wrote passionate poetry about despair and love, about Israelis and Palestinians trapped together and waiting for someone to throw them a line; about his lovers - both Arab and Jew and about hope.

His first book of poetry, Wingless Birds, was published when Darwish was 19 years old and his poems have been translated into more than 20 languages and interpreted by musicians world-wide.

Darwish was born in 1941 in a village that was destroyed by Israel following the 1948 war. His family fled and spent a year under UN care in Lebanon. They later returned to live in what became Israel but were denied citizenship because they were absent during the first census of Palestinians.

Darwish was often under house arrest for his writings and was eventually barred by Israel for 20 years. In 1996, he went back to live in the Palestinian town of Ramallah. He died at the age of 67, in August 2008.

This program explores the power of Darwish's poetry to express Palestinian struggles for identity as well as every day life. Through conversations with people who've known him, we'll also look at his appeal to young people who have only known him through their parents' generation. Some of his iconic poems such as 'passport' and 'mother' are so well known that young Australian Palestinians can recite them by heart.

List of Poems:Identity card The earth is closing on us They'd love to see me dead We have on this earth what makes life worth living Passport And we have a land Mother (ummi)This is forgetfulness In Jerusalem On a day like today Diary of a Palestinian Wound The dictionary and the rose Who am I without exile?